‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff. Part 3 She dressed carefully for dinner in a black dress that her father liked, and that made her look serious and responsible. Smiling, the Chinaman gave the correct pronunciation. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child.
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